The Riddle of Love
by Kaira77
Summary: You can't make someone love you… but what if you could? What if you could make that one person feel the want, need and desire that torments you every day? Could you resist? Merope couldn't, and her attempt to alleviate the agony of unrequited love brought Voldemort into the world. Tom Riddle/Merope
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! A new type of fic here – an account of what might have gone on between Merope and Tom Riddle Sr., and afterwards up to the point of her death. I have tried to stay in canon and intend to fill in the blanks as written in 'The Half-Blood Prince'. You might want to read Chapter Ten, 'The House of Gaunt' before reading this as a reminder. Contains strong language and references to sexual situations.**

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'_Is it true?' said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two towards the terrified girl. 'My daughter – pure-blooded descendent of Salazar Slytherin – hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined muggle?'_

_Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak._

'_You disgusting little squib! You filthy little blood traitor!' Roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat._

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'_What happened to the girl in the cottage?' Said Harry at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand. 'Merope, or whatever her name was?'_

'_Oh, she survived,' Said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk and indicating that Harry should sit down too. 'Ogden apparated back to the ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage and subsequently convicted by the Wizemgamot.'_

_Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Chapter Ten: The House of Gaunt_

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'Good riddance! Mudblood scum!' Marvolo yelled at the echo of the crack from Ogden's disapparition charm, still firing badly aimed curses up the lane. Merope could see him clearly through the dingy cottage window, spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth as he snarled and hissed with incandescent rage. She was scared. More scared than usual. She was used to a basal level of torment from her brother and father, but she'd really done it this time.

Merope stood in the corner of the dirty, stained kitchen. She always retreated to this spot, backing against the grimy walls and hoping they wouldn't see her. But she had been well and truly noticed today, and she had done something unforgivable. Her brother was already advancing upon her, a sick, unhinged smile on his face. His mad, mismatched eyes glinted as he enjoyed watching her cringe.

'Slut of mudbloods and muggles, you are,' he hissed at her in parseltongue, 'just wait until father comes back inside –' she could still hear Marvolo's deranged screaming coming from the lane, '- he's gonna hurt you good and proper this time, you filthy little whore.' He giggled; it was a perverse sound – the sound a child would make at the prospect of an exciting game.

Merope slunk further into her corner, tears of fear and despair sliding down her grimy, pallid face. Morfin stood there, imprisoning her, laughing. She hated him. She hated herself. She hated everything about this life. Merope had never fitted in with her family. She was weak willed and weak minded – her magic was weak too. She didn't possess the streaks of defiance and cunning that were so prized in her family, and she didn't care about being pureblood or a descendent of Slytherin. When had it ever helped her in her miserable, pathetic excuse for a life? All she was to her family was a sickly branch on a prized family tree – and that's the only reason she had been allowed to live. As for outside of the family… no one knew or cared she existed. She was doomed to spend the rest of her days in grotty clothes in this dingy hovel, cooking and cleaning for her family – who loved nothing more than to abuse her and tell her how absolutely useless she truly was. She knew how it would most likely end up too… Whether she was a Gaunt or not, no pureblood wizard would ever want her, and her father would deem no one 'good enough' to carry the blood of Gaunt anyway. It was inevitable that she would be forced to be with Morfin, and carry his children – pure Gaunts to carry on the bloodline.

The terrible thing was that this barely even made her shudder. Nothing had ever really shocked her. Merope had seen all manner of things growing up in this house, and mostly had just gone along with it – anything to make life less of a struggle. She would never defy them. She didn't have the strength physically, mentally or emotionally to do anything about this situation. She was… absolutely defeated, and accepted her fate with grim, miserable apathy.

Merope slid down the wall and slumped onto the floor. She was so… _tired_. Perhaps when her father came back in from venting his rage at Ogden, he would finally go further than he ever had before – and rather than beating her or torturing her with the _Cruciatus_ curse, he would just kill her. Accidentally or on purpose, she didn't care. She had nothing to live for. The only place that held any solace for her was her fantasy world, where she and Tom were together and irretrievably in love… maybe death was like dreaming, maybe she could spend eternity in her fantasy… maybe.

Morfin was still giggling insanely at her, and things had gone ominously silent in the lane. She closed her eyes and retreated into herself; to that corner of her mind she went when things were too much. When she opened her eyes again, they were glazed. She could see everything going on, but it was like witnessing it through a bubble; a thick, impenetrable bubble where the sound of slanderous abuse became distorted and the pain of punches was dulled.

She heard Marvolo's heavy footsteps back towards the house as if through water, and Morfin's giggle was barely audible anymore. Her father marched towards where Morfin was standing and stood with him, uniting against her, sneering down upon her with derision and loathing. She saw all this on the periphery of her vision, her unfocussed eyes staring ahead unblinkingly. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her upright, screaming obscenities in her face; she knew that the tugging sensation on her scalp was painful, but couldn't feel it, she was aware that a gob of saliva had landed just under her left eye, but wasn't repulsed. He slapped her around the cheek with all his might, but the sting didn't break her bubble. Nothing could wrench her from her safe place. Nothing… except –

'_Crucio!'_

Merope was wrenched back to reality with the most violent of tugs. Her bubble popped forcefully, the walls shattered with agonising intensity, and unimaginable pain encompassed every inch of her, so deep within her it felt like it would never leave. Screams flowed out of her like blood and she begged, pleaded with whatever powers that be that she would just be allowed to _die_. Just let it end. Please, oh please, _oh please!_

And it did. The pain stopped, and she was left in a crumpled heap on the floor, covered in sweat and urine, her face flat against the dirty, cold flagstones. She could hear voices, soft, reasonable voices. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was death, and the people who belonged to those voices were there to welcome her, clean her up and take her on to the afterlife – away from this place to somewhere beautiful and free.

Merope looked up. Ogden was back, with four other people, all with their wands pointing at the unconscious forms of her brother and father. Her mouth fell open as they were bound before her eyes. A woman had lowered her wand and was approaching her. Merope looked at her with wonder. She probably was a woman of average attractiveness, but to Merope, she seemed to be the most exquisite beauty she had ever seen. Clean and neat and fragrant, with a way of holding herself that indicated confidence and power, and a face that was… Merope had never seen an expression like it, she wasn't sure but perhaps it was… kindness.

'Merope?' Said the woman quietly. Merope backed back into her corner instinctively. 'Are you alright?'

She had never been 'alright' in her life, so she didn't respond, just sat there and stared at her.

'We are going to take your father and brother to Azkaban, to await a hearing for assaulting a ministry official… amongst other things…' she looked at their unconscious forms with distaste. 'I have come to take you to St. Mungo's Hospital. My name is Aetheria.'

Merope shook her head. Her father would never permit her to leave the house without his permission, he would be furious. She curled her legs up to herself in the corner and tried to make herself as small as possible.

Aetheria looked at her sympathetically. 'Alright, we don't have to go to the hospital. But I am a healer, and I am going to give you a check over before I leave you here, ok?'

Merope nodded, not fully aware what she was agreeing to. She had learnt that it was easier just to be compliant. The other four ministry officials set about moving Morfin and Marvolo. She watched disbelievingly as they were levitated out of the door, and she stared onto the lane through the window as the officials apparated away with her family. They were gone. Gone. She was free. It was all too much to take in. She shot one last look of bewilderment at Aetheria, and fainted.

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**A review would really make my day ;) Thanks so much for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

When she came around, she found herself lying on a comfortable sofa, wrapped in a soft, clean-smelling blanket. Her shapeless, grey, soiled dress had been removed and she was only in her underwear. Merope looked around in confusion; she was still in her father's dilapidated, dirty hovel, but a few things were different. The lamps in the corners of the living room were lit, and the room no longer looked so dingy and miserable. The sofa she was lying on was also new; it was squashy, soft and deep red, lying in place of the rough wooden chairs that were usually haphazardly placed around the old, cracked fireplace. Her wand had been left on the sofa arm, and she clutched at it quickly. The danger might appear gone, but she didn't want to let herself believe that quite yet. Merope had never been very good with her wand, but the security of having it with her was nice nevertheless.

She closed her eyes to try and understand what had happened; her father and brother were torturing her... and then the people from the ministry stopped them and took them away. There had been a woman... she was... nice. That was all she remembered. She supposed she must have passed out.

As if to answer her question, she heard the sounds of somebody coming down the stairs, and the woman... Merope couldn't remember her name... came towards her. She couldn't seem to stop herself reacting in fear, she didn't think anyone had ever approached her without the intention of insulting on hurting her, and so she curled up into a ball underneath her blanket, leaving only her head exposed.

'Hello again, Merope. How are you feeling?'

Merope frowned; she had no idea how to answer this question, and didn't think she had ever been asked it before. How was she feeling?

She ached from the effects of the cruciatus curse, and she was scared that she had been left alone; as much as she hated living with Morfin and Marvolo, it had been familiar, well known territory. This was something new and intimidating. She was also confused about why this woman was treating her like she cared about her. There was so much she didn't understand. But most of all she felt -

'Dirty...' she croaked hoarsely.

Merope wasn't sure what exactly she meant with that response. She was a dirty squib in love with a dirty mudblood, she was a pathetic, weak, blood traitor, but most of all... she actually was filthy. Although she was no belle, Merope was still a woman - and she admired beauty. She liked the smell of flowers and the glint of gems, and pretty clothes and well done hair. Her magic had always been stunted by fear of her father; she had never been very good at taking care of herself - and it became worse over time as it was so obvious that her life meant so much less than the lives of Morfin and Marvolo - who she spent all her time caring for. They didn't care how disgusting they were, or how much the house descended into squalor around them, as long as they were kept well fed. So over time, Merope had lost the strength and self-esteem to care for herself. She was acutely aware of it in the presence of this well groomed, confident woman.

She was lying there, half naked, thoroughly aware of how disgusting she truly was. Her once blonde hair was lank and straggly, appearing brown through all the dirt and grease. Her skin felt grimy and oily, and her fingernails were full of dirt. Her scrawny body was covered in cuts and bruises from manual labour and the beatings she was so frequently subjected to. To top it all, she could feel the dampness of her underwear from when she had lost bladder control under the effects of the curse. She felt so pitiful and ashamed of herself.

The woman smiled sympathetically at her. Aetheria, that was her name, thought Merope as it came back to her.

'That's ok, Merope. I have run a bath for you upstairs – and scourgified the bathroom while I was at it! I conjured you some things to clean with as well – go along, take your time – it will help with the effects of the cruciatus curse too, and we will do your check up afterwards.'

Merope nodded shyly at her, and shakily stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as she shuffled up the stairs. When she reached the bathroom, it was almost unrecognisable. The tile walls were once again white, the floor felt smooth and glossy beneath her feet, and the smell… it reminded Merope of spring flowers. The bath was gloriously full, the water frothy and steaming. On the floor by the head of the tub were towels (charmed to stay warm), a loofah, a sponge and a bottle of 'Madame Metis' Essence of Eluo'. Merope couldn't remember the last time she had had a bath, and she had most definitely _never_ had a bath like this. She dropped the blanket and stripped off her underwear, then stepped ungainly into the deliciously scalding water.

Merope lay there for a few minutes, just relishing the silence. There was no screaming at her to hurry up, or to cook dinner. There was no insane cackling or raving, and no insults being thrown. She dared to smile the tiniest of smiles. It felt strange on her face. After she absorbed the fact that no one was going to interrupt her, she relaxed. Picking up her wand, she pointed at the loofah and said 'Accio'. To her surprise, it shot straight towards her. She took hold of it and the Essence of Eluo, and scrubbed every exposed inch of her. She scrubbed so insistently that if effort were enough, she could have sloughed away all of the past twenty four years. To Merope, this felt like a new start. She would emerge from this bathroom clean and determined to change her life. She had no doubt that Marvolo and Morfin would be back someday, but now she had her chance to decide what and where she would be when that point came. She may not be the strongest, or cleverest, or prettiest girl on the planet, but Merope had enough common sense to know that this was an opportunity – possibly her only opportunity, to get out. She didn't know what she would do or how she would get by – but now no one except herself was stopping her from doing what she wanted.

What she wanted. There was only one thing Merope had ever truly wanted, other than freedom, and that was Tom. She yearned for him desperately… but he didn't even know she existed. Even if he had seen her on one of the days he was riding by, why would he take a second look? She knew the chance of Tom ever feeling the way about her that she felt about him was minute, but this time while her family were away would be her only chance to find out. She loved him too much to lose the only chance she had of spending a future with him.

She knew his routine by heart now. He would ride past their house twice a day on his way to and from work. She thought he worked with his father in the big town down the road. She didn't know what they did, but they obviously did it well. Tom was clearly rich. He lived in the big house she could see from the upstairs window. His muggle clothing was always made of the finest fabrics, and his horse was a strong, well-bred stallion that pulled a cart made of shiny wood and gleaming brass. Maybe the next time he rode by, she would talk to him…

Merope finished washing her hair and finally felt satisfactorily clean. She clambered out of the bath and wrapped herself in the warm fluffy towel. She looked at herself in the mirror (which she had just noticed had been cleaned and mended). There were still bags under her eyes, and bruises on her face and neck – but otherwise, the absence of grease and grime made an astonishing difference. She knew she would never be pretty, but at that moment, she knew she looked… alright… and she had nice eyes.

On opening the bathroom door, she met resistance – and noticed that a bag had been left in front of it. Curiously, she opened it. Inside were clothes. Clean clothes. She stared in disbelief as she pulled out a green, flowered dress with little white buttons up the back. It was the nicest piece of clothing she had ever touched. The bag also contained shoes, tights, new underwear and a brown woolly shawl. She retreated back into the bathroom and dressed excitedly, and couldn't resist a little spin when she was all dressed up, watching the skirt twirl.

Merope went downstairs – and found it unrecognisable. It appeared that Aetheria had cleaned and generally sorted out the whole house while she had been in the bath. The dust and grime was gone, the rotten food vanished, the pots and pans put away. All lamps were lit, and the broken kitchen chairs repaired. Her jaw dropped. She saw Aetheria sat on the sofa reading. It must have taken her minutes – as Merope expected it would have taken her had the magic not been terrified out of her.

Aetheria looked up and Merope flushed and looked at the floor.

'Looking much better, Merope.' She said to her, smiling.

'Th… thank you.' She stuttered, unable to express how much the kindness of this woman meant to her.

'That's alright, Merope – it was no trouble, that dress looks better on you than it ever did on me.' Aetheria stood up. 'Right, I just need to cast a few charms on you to see if you are alright… I really would recommend a hospital stay for a few nights, Merope – just to get you on your feet.'

Merope didn't respond to that, and asked 'How long are my father and brother going to be away?'

'Well, thanks to their terrible behaviour, they are being imprisoned up to the time of the trial, which will be sometime next month. As for their sentence, well… they didn't do any lasting damage to any of the ministry officials, so that will be a small sentence – a few months… but we witnessed your father using an unforgivable curse – as I'm sure you know that is punishable by a life sentence. It is unlikely he will get that strong a punishment, but what we saw is enough to get him a few years – especially if you testify against him.'

Merope's eyes widened… she could never do that – but she didn't say anything to Aetheria. By the sounds of things, she definitely had a few months to work with. A few months! That was more than she'd dared to hope. She smiled a full, proper smile, and Aetheria smiled back.

'Alright, Merope. Come over here, this won't take long.' Merope complied, and walked to stand in front of Aetheria, who rose her wand and drew it down in a straight line, as though pretending to slice Merope down the middle. She felt a curious tingling sensation travel down her whole body, and shivered a little.

'Hmm…' said Aetheria, frowning. 'You're very malnourished, and you have a lot of badly mended broken bones… but other than that, I don't think there's any lasting damage. How do you feel mentally, Merope? You've been through an awful lot, it seems.'

'I… I don't know…' Merope said quietly. 'I'm ok now… now they've gone.'

'I'm sure.' Said Aetheria. 'Well, I'd like you to come and see me again in a week or so, when you are less in shock. Are you sure you won't come to St. Mungo's? I really do think it would be best.'

Merope shook her head, 'No, thank you – I'd rather be here…'

Aetheria looked doubtful. 'Is there anyone who can look after you?'

In truth, 'no' was the answer to that, but Merope had no intention of going to St Mungo's now her chance to get Tom had arrived.

'Yes…' she lied, 'My boyfriend, Tom.'

Aetheria looked surprised. 'He doesn't hit you too, does he Merope?'

'Oh no!' Said Merope, looking scandalised, 'he would never hurt me! He… he loves me.'

The healer was doubtful. 'Hmmm… how come he allowed your father to treat you like that? Why hasn't he taken you out of here?'

'He… he doesn't know about it… he's a muggle, you see.'

'I see…' said Aetheria, not looking wholly convinced. 'Well… make sure you come and see me again soon. Here… ' she handed Merope three bottles. 'One is a salve for bruises, one is a dose of skele-gro for those old breaks, and one is a calming draught – it will also help you sleep.'

'I… I don't have any money…'

'Don't worry about that, take them. I have to go to another appointment now, are you going to be alright?'

'Yes… thank you for everything.'

'Don't mention it. It's what any decent person would do.' Said Aetheria, 'Make sure you start eating well, and make sure your boyfriend takes good care of you.'

'He will… he's a wonderful man, my Tom.'

Aetheria smiled, and started towards the door. 'Goodbye, Merope.'

'Bye.'

Aetheria disapparated, and Merope was finally alone. Tomorrow, her Tom would ride by again, and this time, she wouldn't be peeking out of the window. She would be waiting in the lane.

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**Thank you so much for reading! A review would be lovely ;)**


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